


Hold You Down Until You're Amazed

by LaughingStones, roachpatrol



Category: Motorcity
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Bondage, Dirty Talk, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Naga, Teasing, naga!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-06 17:52:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15891048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughingStones/pseuds/LaughingStones, https://archiveofourown.org/users/roachpatrol/pseuds/roachpatrol
Summary: Chuck grabs a big fistful of Mike’s hair, yanking his head back and away from Chuck's coils, and Mike can only hope his choked-off whine sounds more pained than— anything else, because he’s suddenly thinking about way too manyanything elses.“Stop moving,” Chuck hisses in Mike's ear, low enough to be inaudible under the noise of the Terras.





	Hold You Down Until You're Amazed

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Roach for the ideas, the best lines, and the beta! Good cowriter, best friend!  
> He also drew some GORGEOUS AND ADORABLE pics of these snek boys, which are [here](https://rollerskatinglizard.tumblr.com/post/177801639074/roachpatrol-rollerskatinglizard-suggested)! Further sketches including Julie are [here](https://rollerskatinglizard.tumblr.com/post/177040775741/roachpatrol-danger-noodle-doodles-mike-as-a). (All are sfw.)
> 
> (Title is from the song 'I'm here for your entertainment')

They've been in Terra territory for like five minutes when Chuck hauls Mike behind a giant mushroom for the first time. “Are there guys?” Mike whispers unnecessarily, and Chuck nods, glaring at him. Yes there are guys, of course there are guys, this whole place is _packed_ with Terra guys and Mike isn't _allowed_ to fight them yet, yeah, he knows.

“I could--” Mike starts anyway, and Chuck rises up a little on his lower half to loom at him.

“No you could _not_ ,” he hisses, tongue flicking out irritably to taste the air. “Because we can't afford _you_ getting shot and paralyzed when they've already got Dutch! Mission focus, Mikey, come on!”

Mike twitches edgily, wanting to strike at something, scare off the danger or take it out, but Chuck is right and he knows it. Sulkily, he tastes the air himself. Chuck being agitated and nervous overwhelms most of the other scents except for the dank pungency of the mushroom next to them.

“Okay,” Chuck murmurs a minute later, and they start moving again. Mike has to admit, it's pretty cool how good Chuck is at this. He finds passages between the giant mushroom clusters just wide enough to slither through in single file, keeping on the ground and out of the usual traveled routes, sneaking through the shadows, spotting places to hide. The Terras are— _were_ — mostly arboreal types, so they tend to spend their time up in the heights of their fungi forest, coiling along branches--or skittering; some of them are mutated to have _legs_ growing out of their bodies, spiny and awful like giant centipedes-- but unfortunately there are still enough of them down here that Chuck has to drag Mike behind and under things to hide pretty often.

On the one hand, Mike's own instincts don't have much useful to offer here; Terras are crazy enough that threat-posing and rattling at them isn't going to make most of them blink, and once it's down to combat, yeah, Mike's a big scary rattlesnake, and yeah, he’s usually one of the fastest guys on the field and no one wants to tangle all that closely with a guy who’s packing a _literally_ killer bite... but the Terras have darts with that horrible new paralysis stuff, and maybe spore bombs of it too. Sneaking is the only reasonable option.

On the other hand, the whole hiding thing gets old really fast. Not just because he's not allowed to fight, but because when Chuck gets nervous enough, he gets kind of grabby. Coily. He's a ball python, an ambush constrictor, so it's only natural for him to be extra-cautious. And normally, when they're not crammed together in tiny spaces, Mike's fine with it. This is not ‘normally’.

But there's nothing to _do_ about it, they can't just stop hiding! Mike _wants_ to, every last inch of him wants to go on the attack. The roof of his mouth aches with the urge to drop his fangs down, his tail’s one big knot from how hard it is to keep his rattle still. The kind of fight Mike wants to pick just won't _work_ right now, though, and he and Chuck are both getting more and more wound up for separate reasons.

The problem doesn't get better when Mike finally spots a group of Terras before Chuck, and rears up into a threat-pose instinctively, coils tensed to strike, even though they're way out of range. 

“Mike, _no_ ,” Chuck whisper-yelps, and hauls him by main force down to the ground, pinning him flat in the shadows with his greater weight and strength. Mike may be rattler-quick, but even Texas has to work a little to out-muscle a constrictor, and Mike's startled, adrenaline-fueled thrashing to get loose does no good at all against Chuck’s panicky desire to keep him down and still.

“Okay,” Mike rasps after a second. “Got it. Think I'm good now, buddy.” Chuck has his arms pinned under one heavy coil, the rest of him wrapped up thoroughly, and he's half-lying on Mike's chest, breathing in his ear. It's. Not great, is all. Or, it _would_ begreat, it'd be _awesome_ if Chuck was doing it on purpose and in a different situation.

“Shut up,” Chuck whispers absently, and when Mike twists involuntarily under him, all those pretty gold and brown coils tighten and he hisses warningly and Mike's _helpless_ , held down, every brain cell devoted to not moaning, not saying anything desperate and obvious, _not_ shifting to grind more of his sensitive stomach against Chuck’s velvety-soft scales.

He has no idea how long it takes before Chuck lets him up again, but probably forever. And then they're sliding through the shadows again, and next time Julie can be the hero and sneak in somewhere to save the day, because Mike is _so_ not down with all this.

He gets a break for a little while when they don't run into any Terras, and then the one pair they see are far enough away that Chuck just puts a cautioning hand on his arm and leads him deeper into the shadows and away. For a while, Mike thinks they might actually get to where the Terras stuck Dutch and get out without any more having to cram into tight spaces.

Then there's the sound of sliding scales from above them, a lot of it, like at least six Terras, distant but coming closer fast as they drop through the levels. Chuck looks around frantically and drags Mike into a tiny, cramped spot in the middle of a cluster of mushrooms with caps low to the ground, casting everything in deep shadow.

Terras land on the ground all around them with the repeating thumping impact of long, chitinous bodies, and way too many sets of segmented, spiny legs (Terras are _so freaky_ ). There's not enough hissing to think they've noticed the Burners, but Mike is jerking and twitching anyway to have them so close and be unable to strike, fangs unfolded and drooling venom down his chin, and Chuck is looping around him in a panic, trying to hold him still without getting bit. Things don’t get any better when he grabs a big fistful of Mike’s hair, yanking his head back and away from Chuck's coils, and Mike can only hope his choked-off whine sounds more pained than— anything else, because he’s suddenly thinking about way too many _anything elses_. 

“ _Stop moving_ ,” Chuck hisses in Mike's ear, low enough to be inaudible under the noise of the Terras.

“I can't!” Mike hisses back. “It's a rattler thing!” The Terras are _right there_. It takes all his self-control not to rattle angrily at them or bite Chuck on accident, he doesn't have any left over for not wriggling in frustration.

“It is _not_ a rattler thing,” Chuck mutters under his breath. “Normal rattlesnakes can hold still, Mike. _Julie_ can hold still! Normal rattlesnakes aren't eager to fight a bunch of crazy people with poison weapons!”

Mike _really_ wants to bite something then, because everything sucks bad enough already without having to hear about how lousy he is at dealing with it, but then some of the Terras on the other side of the mushroom cluster turn and come around to where the others are, and one of them gets up onto a mushroom cap and _pauses_. She's practically right above Mike and Chuck, and apparently that's the last straw: Chuck lets out a little shivering breath and coils into a terrified ball _around Mike_. Since they were already kind of tangled together, he's pretty much forcibly balling _Mike_ up too, and the upshot is that they're stuck in something mortifyingly close to a freaking _mating ball_ and Chuck is too upset to even notice. 

Mike breathes carefully and tries to stop thinking about the similarity, because it's not helping. It doesn't work, because even if Chuck’s stopped pulling and wrestling and _stuff_ , they’re still twined together basically _everywhere_ , Chuck's arms tight around his waist and his head pressed against Mike's ribs, securely hidden in the midst of their combined coils. Mike's fangs have retracted on their own, he's definitely overheating and he can't even take his jacket off because Chuck has his arms trapped again, which also isn't helping.

It's fine, he tells himself, Chuck is distracted by mortal terror and wouldn't think about that kind of thing anyway, he won't notice anything--except then Mike is trying to figure out if a very important part of the whole problem _is_ pressing up against Chuck, because it’s— yeah it’s definitely out and _pressing_ , and if he can maybe kinda shift it away without _grinding_ or anything, that’d be great. No matter how distracted a dude is by his panic attack, he's probably gonna notice that eventually. 

Of course, the more Mike focuses on exactly where they are and aren't pressed together, relative to what his more sensitive stuff is jammed up against, the more he's aware of the beautiful long rippling length of Chuck's body tangled around his, clenching and sliding, and the worse the whole issue gets.

By the time the stupid Terra lookout or whatever slithers off their mushroom and away with the rest of them, Mike is quivering with like a million different kinds of tension and _almost_ completely positive that he’s at least got the worst part of the problem out of the way. But not quite. So like, a million and _one_ kinds of tension, maybe. 

“Okay!” he says, barely remembering to keep his voice down. “They're gone, we're good, we can go!”

“Right,” Chuck says kind of faintly, and takes a couple breaths, and then all his coils clench tight the second Mike starts trying to slide free.

“Dude,” Mike says, breathless with how hard Chuck is suddenly squeezing him. “Come on!”

“Hold _still_ ,” Chuck snaps. “I can't get clear when you're jerking— _around_ , when you’re thrashing around!”

“Why not?!” Mike demands. His problem is not getting any better. “Just get off! Of me, get--just go!”

“I _can't_ yet!” Chuck says shrilly. “It's a prey drive thing, okay? You keep _struggling_ , I can't just--I don't yell at you for rattling!”

“Oh, you do too!” Mike says in outrage, and tries very hard to hold still. “You do that all the time!”

Chuck huffs. “Okay _yes_ but that's not helpful and not the point! Just… yeah. Okay. Good. Like that.”

Mike closes his eyes briefly and hopes Chuck never says that sequence of words where he can hear ever again, especially not so— so low and commanding. Then Chuck is slowly and deliberately uncoiling from around him and re-curling up even further in the shelter of the mushroom cluster, practically burrowing in. 

“I need a minute, sorry,” he says over his shoulder, and his arms are wrapped tightly around himself, his tail twisting itself into big knots like he’s still all freaked out. His face is very flushed under his disheveled bangs and he won’t look at Mike and Mike's stomach twists uncertainly. Chuck couldn't have noticed, could he? He was pretty distracted, right?

Mike clears his throat. “Sorry about the squirming,” he says as casually as he can. “You know me, just gotta move all the time!”

“Yeah, Mikey, I know,” Chuck sighs, and rubs at his face with the closest coil of his tail, sounding... pretty normal actually, just stressed out. So, totally normal, actually. Mike relaxes, letting himself fall back into a loose curl, and takes the time while Chuck’s dealing with his anxiety to sort of... breathe, and think about stuff that isn’t Chuck, as much as he can.

“Okay, I’m good,” Chuck says eventually. 

“You sure?”

“Ahaha, no, _god_. But yeah, let’s go.”

“ _Woo_ ,” Mike cheers, very softly, and slides quickly out of their hiding place before Chuck can change his mind. 

Fortunately for Mike's sanity, that's it for the hiding in tight spaces part of the mission. When they find Dutch, the poison's worn off enough that he can move on his own, so all they have to do is take out the guards who came back a little too late and get out. It's possible Mike is less careful leaving than he was coming in, and it's possible that he ends up fighting off a number of Terras, some of whom have dart guns, while Dutch watches anxiously and Chuck fires his slingshot from a distance and curses Mike out at the top of his lungs. It's fine, though, because they don't have any spore bombs, and it turns out Mike _can too_ block all the darts with his staff no problem, and he never minds Chuck screaming at him, so everything's great, really, because he _finally_ got to fight!

Once the Terras are all down, they get the rest of the way out with only a few more fights, and then they're at the cars where Julie was keeping Texas from going in after them by pure force of will and personality. Texas is… not suited for stealth missions, no matter what he thinks. Mike decides not to mention that the mission stopped being so much stealth on the way out, because they'll never get Texas to agree to stay put again.

There's a round of backslapping and Dutch gets hugged a lot, and then he says he wants to go home, eat something and take a dang nap, so they help him to Julie's car and get going themselves. Mike hopes there's enough room in Julie's car for the whole ridiculously long length of Dutch's still-mostly-paralyzed tail, but Chuck pulled him away while Julie was still helping Dutch reel it all in to the backseat and Texas was pretending to fight the very end of it. With how rough this mission’s been on Chuck’s nerves, Mike’s not at all surprised he wants to bail now that the coast is clear, and anyway, he wouldn’t mind a little peace and quiet himself. 

But when they're only about halfway back, Chuck opens a comm line and says, “You guys keep going, we're gonna detour. See you back at the garage later.”

“Everything okay?” Julie says as Mike blinks over at Chuck.

“Yeah, everything's fine! We just got some stuff to take care of.”

“'Kay, cool, bye,” Texas says briskly, and closes his line. Chuck snorts and closes the call.

“You got errands to run or something, buddy?” Mike asks.

“Something, yeah,” Chuck says. “Take this next left.”

Mike follows directions until Chuck tells him to pull to the side and park, when he frowns and looks over at Chuck. “Dude, there's nothing here.” He glances around out his window just in case he missed something, but there's just torn-up asphalt and straggly weeds for like a city block or two.

“Yeah, Mikey,” Chuck says patiently, taking his safety harness off. “I know.”

Bewildered, Mike turns the car off, shifting his coils away from the gas and brake plates. Maybe Chuck wants to get out and stretch for a minute?

“Are you just gonna sit there with your seatbelt on?” Chuck says, and Mike blinks and takes it off. “Good. Now, come here a sec.”

Still puzzled, Mike leans over and Chuck reaches out and grabs him. Mike laughs a little, and then Chuck slides a coil of his lower body over, pushes underneath Mike's hips and sort of _catches hold_ as Mike twitches and goes wide-eyed, and together with his hands on Mike's shoulders _bodily drags_ Mikeover to his side of the car.

“Uh!” says Mike as Chuck settles him in his lap, staring at the jagged, ash-colored diamond pattern of his lower body draped across Chuck's soft brown and gold mottling. “Haha, uh, okay, so what, um--”

“ _So_ ,” Chuck says, cutting him off. His voice cracks nervously as he goes on, “Earlier, when I was trying to keep you still, it seemed like--”

“Oh hey we should probably get moving,” Mike says desperately, lunging back towards his seat. Chuck's coils under him shift and squeeze and suddenly he's being entangled and dragged back into Chuck’s seat again, this time a _whole lot_ more firmly. Mike isn't about to go easily when he's scared stupid over what Chuck might have been about to say, what he might have noticed earlier and how much he might not like it, so he doesn't stop his bid for freedom there, twisting and squirming to get loose until he's completely wrapped up. The end of Chuck's tail is even holding Mike's wrists pinned behind his back. _Geez,_ constrictors are strong, even their _tails_ can keep him locked down.

None of which is going to help this conversation be any less awkward at all. Mike swallows and tries to stop panting, tries not to wriggle just to feel Chuck’s grip on him tighten, tries not to look as obviously, desperately turned on as he is. His t-shirt’s all rucked up under his jacket, he's overheating again and when he tugs at a wrist, wanting to straighten his shirt, Chuck's tail doesn't even give an inch. Mike bites back a pathetic moan. He wants to apologize but it feels like that’d be admitting all of this is real, is happening— he _can’t_ , he doesn’t want to, it feels like the only thing keeping him from actually, literally exploding is the iron grip Chuck has on him. 

When Mike can bring himself to look at his best friend, Chuck's cheeks are flushed red and he's scenting the air, delicate little tongue flicks out and in again. He’s not letting Mike go, just... _studying_ him, holding him so close that when Mike takes a testing breath of his own their tongues almost brush, and even if all Mike can sense is his own stupid arousal it's still— there's still _kind of a lot_ to deal with, how Chuck looks, and how he’s _looking_ at him. 

“Okay,” Chuck says, brushing his bangs back for a second. His slit pupils are dilated, making his blue eyes very dark. “Because, you like this,” he says, breathless and high-pitched, but sounding like he's just continuing a conversation they'd been having while Mike wasn't paying attention. “Earlier we couldn't do anything because we had to get Dutch, but we could now, and you want to, right, so can--can we? Can I have you?” Mike loses all his breath, makes a choked little noise unfortunately close to a whimper, and stares poleaxed at Chuck before managing, “Yeah, yes, you can definitely-- _please._ ”

“Oh, thank god, I’m not crazy,” Chuck sighs, going slack all around Mike. 

“You— _what?_ No! I, you’re, uh, no you’re right, I um. Hi?” Mike manages. 

“Hi,” Chuck says, laughing a little, and then he leans in and— okay, wow. He definitely kisses Mike, Mike is _being kissed_ right now, so that’s great. Mike's arms shift as he starts to reach out and Chuck's tail curls tight around his wrists again. He moans into the kiss, half appreciation, half complaint.

“You wanna let me go, dude?” he gets out, cheeks flaming just from acknowledging the situation.

“Oh yeah?” Chuck says. “Why’s that, huh? I just _got_ you. Maybe I wanna _keep_ you.”

Mike barely swallows the hungry noise that wants to come out at that, taking a breath. “You don't want me to get my jacket off? Kinda kinky, Chuckles, doing this still dressed.”

“Oh right, _that's_ kinky.” Chuck snorts. “The whole thing where you get off on being caught like this and I get off on catching you, that's just like, _standard_. No big deal at all.”

“You--yeah?” Mike says, suddenly breathless all over again. “You like this too?”

“I-- _obviously_ , Mikey!” Chuck squeaks, going darker red.

“Oh,” Mike says. “Cool!”

“Yes, cool,” Chuck says, and rolls his eyes. “You dork.” He nibbles his lip thoughtfully, then says, “Fine, go on and strip,” and lets Mike's wrists go.

Grinning, Mike grabs for him instead and sways in to kiss for a while longer. Chuck makes an indignant noise but kisses back a minute or two before he fists a hand in Mike's hair and tugs until Mike's arched backwards, breathing hard and trying not to whine.

“Who exactly do you think is in charge, here, bro?” Chuck says, voice high and distinctly breathless.

A hot jolt goes through Mike’s gut and he gasps for breath. “You,” he says in a low rasp. “You are,” and he barely bites off the 'sir’ that wants to come out next.

“That's right,” Chuck says, not quite steadily. “So. You're going to behave yourself now, right?”

“Yes I will I promise, please,” Mike babbles, and as soon as Chuck lets go of his hair he scrambles to get his jacket off, pull his t-shirt over his head, flinging them both into the driver's seat.

“Good,” Chuck says, pulling his bangs back to give Mike a hungry once-over. Mike swallows hard. He's been doing his best not to get like, _gross_ or anything, but a guy only has so much physical control, and his dick is definitely starting to make an appearance. His sheath’s come open and definitely at least the tip’s out, he can feel it.

Then he chokes and squirms, because those are _Chuck’s fingers_ gently brushing over just the wet head of his dick, then tracing softly around the rim of his sheath, and Chuck’s coils go iron-hard all over, locking him into place. His dick twitches and pulses and his hips tremble helplessly against Chuck’s hold, and Chuck laughs, breathless and quiet, and rubs a fingertip with _agonizing_ delicacy down along the slick, quickly-emerging length of Mike’s very eager dick. 

“ _Dude_ ,” Mike gasps. 

“Dude,” Chuck repeats, sounding almost as breathless but _way_ more smug.

“Oh my god,” Mike says, tempted to grab for Chuck and--he's not sure, get a hand under his shirt, maybe. He hesitates a second, hands half-raised, because he did promise to behave, he just wasn't counting on Chuck being a jerk about it! Then Chuck's tail is wrapping around one wrist, tugging it behind his back, and when Mike squawks in objection, other hand pulling safely away, Chuck's coils shift around him until that tail can reach out and snag his other wrist too.

Before he can complain about it, Chuck grins at him and traces a gentle spiral around the head of his dick, leaving him breathing too hard to do anything but whine. 

“You look good like this,” Chuck says. “All wrapped up and held still. I can do exactly what I want, and you can't get away.”

Mike shivers, moaning, and his hips jerk as Chuck strokes soft little touches all down his dick, now fully out. Then he strokes Mike's hips instead, his belly, making him press forward into the touch, or at least try before Chuck's tail pulls him back by the wrists.

“Go on and fight it, Mikey,” Chuck says, low and husky. “I know you want to. Go ahead and try, see how you can't get loose.”

Mike lets out a shocked, stuttering groan and tugs at his wrists, then harder, and then flings the whole length of himself into squirming frantically, curling and lashing and wrenching from side to side. He barely moves within the rippling flex of Chuck's powerful coils, they don't give at all, solid muscle curving around him everywhere. The whole stretch of his lower body is caught and held, curled neatly within Chuck's grip no matter how he tries to wriggle free.

“Yeah,” Chuck says, breathless again. “God, look at you.” His hands skate up Mike's torso, just the fingertips touching, then slide back down, slowing as they reach his stomach. Mike jerks helplessly against the restraining coils as Chuck teases him, fingers edging gradually lower, crossing from skin to the soft wide scales of his lower body, to feather around the rim of his sheath and up again as he whimpers.

Every time Mike tries to arch and rock his hips forward, push into the touch, maybe shove his dick up against Chuck and grind on him, Chuck's hand pulls away for a moment, his coils tightening around Mike to pull him back. It's _terrible_ , and incredibly hot, and Mike is definitely losing his mind.

He's not sure if it's better or worse that Chuck keeps _talking_ , all hoarse and breathless. “That's right, bro, struggle all you want, you're not going anywhere. You're so hot like this, geez. And you're so into this, aren't you--I can taste how much you like it, Mikey,” his tongue flicks the air. “You can’t even hide it.”

Mike moans a breathless complaint at that. “Not fair,” he pants, dazedly trying to glare, “you're the one gettin’ me--all worked up and--makin’ me _crazy_ \--”

“Yeah,” Chuck agrees, “I totally am.” He laughs, bright and startlingly sweet. “Because I've got you, and I'm not letting go, and you _like_ it!” Mike groans at him, but he keeps going. “I finally get to hold onto you and keep you still, keep you from going off and getting in trouble. I can keep you here as long as I want, and you're not going to do anything about it, are you?”

Mike shivers all over. “No, yeah,” he says, staring into Chuck's face, breathless and startled. “Yeah, I--you can, you can keep me--however long, long as you want, I, I'm yours.”

Chuck's mouth opens and his hands falter and go still. “ _Oh_ ,” he says, and just hangs there a second, open-mouthed and wordless before he makes this little squeaky noise and leans in to kiss Mike hard. Mike kisses him back, hungry and thrilled.

When Chuck pulls away again, he laughs a little, pushing a hand through his bangs. “Wow, okay, um. Unexpected positive results. I guess I should probably give you what you want, huh?”

“You should always give me what I want,” Mike points out, trying his best charming grin, although it probably comes out more ‘hopeful and desperate’.

Chuck snorts. “Okay, scrap that, you're still waiting for it.”

“Nooo, Chuck c’mooon, geez-- _ah_ ,” Mike breaks off as Chuck's fingers trace delicate lines up his dick, and then one hand stays there just _teasing_ , fingertips rubbing gently back and forth while the other hand goes roaming.

“Go on and keep struggling, bro, I know you still got some fight left in you,” Chuck says with a breathless smile, and Mike whines out loud and _does._ He’s not quite as frantic and convulsive as before, but there’s still a lot of wiggling and squirming. It doesn't get him anywhere, but that's the _point_ , is how good it feels to fight and know that he's helpless, outweighed, outclassed.

The periods he has to take a break from resisting to catch his breath get longer and longer until finally he gives a final thrash of his coils and then slumps, sobbing for breath. He can’t do more than shiver when Chuck gently strokes down his stomach and hips again, the hand on his dick slipping slowly up and down.

“You like being overwhelmed like this,” Chuck murmurs. “Mike Chilton likes being pinned down and pushed around, who would've guessed?”

“Yeah, well, hah, you like it too,” Mike manages. Chuck gives him a dubious look and he clarifies, “Not _being_ \--doing the pinning.”

“Yeah? So?” Chuck kind of tenses up.

“So nothing,” Mike pants, managing just the barest squirming resistance to get Chuck's coils to clamp down on him, then moaning when they do. “'S just. Really hot.”

The tension eases out of Chuck again as he smiles. “Yeah? Whatever you say, dude.”

“Can I, can you,” Mike stops, drags in a shuddering breath, gets his words straight. “Take your shirt off? I wanna see.”

Chuck considers him until Mike makes a little hopeful sound, tugging weakly at his wrists, and then snorts and grins. “Fine, whatever, you weirdo.” He takes his hands off Mike, who bravely doesn't whimper in complain, because then Chuck is stripping his shirt off, all pale and slim and beautiful, shrugging at Mike with shoulders hunched defensively.

“Yeah,” Mike breathes, “yeah, buddy, god you're so hot.”

Chuck snorts again, but at least he looks more amused than otherwise as he starts touching Mike again. “Sure I am, bro. Hey,” he adds, with a sharp, intrigued smile. “How hot would it be if I got you close and then stopped, and we drove back home, and I took you up to my room and played with you more there?”

Mike's staring at him in mingled interest and alarm. “Um,” he says uncertainly. “I… like the playing more? Not so much the stopping.”

“No?” Chuck says like that's a surprise. “Really?” He strokes Mike's dick a few times, sudden and firm, then stops and watches Mike whine and buck for more. “That doesn't make it better?” he asks, voice gone husky again.

“ _No_ ,” Mike gasps, “ _please_ , please just lemme--don't stop, don't be mean, I just wanna--”

“Okay, okay,” Chuck says soothingly, hand moving again, not quite quick and hard enough but so much better than the teasing he's been doing. “It's okay, dude, I got you.”

Mike presses into his hand, is pulled back, struggles and is held still, and it all keeps feeling _really good_ even if he's nowhere close yet, so it's no surprise that it takes him a while to notice the way Chuck is holding himself. He's kind of stiff, and one of the coils holding Mike's lower body all tight and contained curves right in front of Chuck's belly, and stays there even when he has to shift to keep hold of Mike. Like he's hiding.

“Oh my god,” Mike says, staring at the gold and brown scales. “ _Dude_. What the heck, Chuckles, you're doing all _this_ and I don't even get to _see_ you?!”

“Oh,” Chuck says, “I, you want to?”

“Do I want to _see your dick?_ ” Mike says, staring at him in outrage. “ _Yes_ , are you kidding?!”

“Oh,” Chuck says again, and his hands go still as he hunches his shoulders in a sort of shrug. His coils shift around Mike, that curve slides down out of the way, and--yeah, that's Chuck's dick, all pale pink and shining wet. Mike's eyes fix hungrily on it and he tugs at the hold on his wrists.

“Come on, let me have a hand, I just wanna touch you.”

Chuck makes a squeaky noise and doesn't move at all for a minute. Then he says in a high voice, “Okay but what if we have sex instead.”

“We already are, though?” Mike says, puzzled, and Chuck huffs at him like he's missing the point on purpose.

“Mikey, do you want my dick in you or not?”

Mike makes a faint breathy noise, eyes round, and can't figure out words at all for a second, stunned totally brainless by how incredibly hot that idea is. “ _Yes_ ,” he says then, “holy crap yes _please_ , if we, uh--we can do that?”

Chuck laughs, rubbing a hand over his face like he's relieved, like there was _any doubt_ what Mike's answer would be. 

“Yeah, bro,” he says, “we definitely can.” The hand on Mike's dick pulls away, Mike biting back a protest, and slides down below his sheath. “You ever messed around with this?” Chuck asks as his fingers nudge into the dip between two particular scales, and Mike catches his breath.

“No,” he manages, and bites his lip to keep from making any weird noises when Chuck rubs gently back and forth, teasing at the edge of the opening there.

“Really? You've never just--” he pushes a fingertip forward and Mike goes “ _Nnh_ ,” and shivers all over.

“Wow,” Chuck says hoarsely. “Okay, guess not.” He works his finger the rest of the way in, and then another one, and Mike is making soft shaky noises without meaning to, because that's--he can _feel_ Chuck in him, and it's weird and vulnerable even just with fingers, it's going to be so much more when it's his _dick_. Mike can't seem to breathe, thinking about it, he's hot all over.

“Okay,” Chuck says, pulling his fingers out, “okay, okay.” He's taking deep breaths, his coils rippling and resettling around Mike like he's just as nervous as Mike is. “Okay, I got this, I've got you, dude.”

“I know,” Mike says, wiggling a little just to feel the familiar grip firm around him, Chuck’s coils clamping down instinctively. “I know you do.”

Chuck strokes his own dick a couple times, spreading the precome around, pressing at his sheath to help keep everything slick, and then the tip of his dick is pushing against Mike's opening, stretching him wider as it slides in. Mike's breath catches in his throat and he moans hoarsely, jerking all over, trying to push forward into it, get _more_ , _faster_ , but he can't move, he just has to hold still and take exactly what Chuck feels like giving him.

“Oh my god,” Chuck says in a cracked, unsteady voice, and thrusts.

Mike cries out and tries uselessly to buck into it. It feels like Chuck's pushing into the core of him, like he's stripped open, utterly defenseless, and it could hurt but it doesn't, it feels _good_.

“ _Chuck_ ,” he gasps, and Chuck's hips hitch in the middle of thrusting again.

“Wha, what, you okay?”

“Don't stop,” Mike pants, “please, keep, more.”

“Okay,” Chuck says, breathless and relieved, and keeps going, pumping into him faster. His coils don't give at all, Mike still can't push into it, couldn’t even if he wasn’t on the shaking edge of exhaustion, but then they shift a little and suddenly they're _moving_ him, rocking him into Chuck’s movement so every thrust goes deeper, shoving into him sharp and hard enough it almost hurts. The roughness puts the glittering edge of adrenaline on everything, makes Mike moan out loud, almost giddy with how perfect it is, how good it feels.

Chuck moans back, fingers hard on Mike's hips as he leans in to kiss him. Mike's wrists jerk, trying to reach for Chuck, but Chuck's tail just tightens on them and Mike gasps and groans into the kiss.

“God you're _so hot_ ,” Chuck pants again, and Mike shudders with it. Chuck keeps pumping into him, coils still moving Mike bodily into each stroke, and babbles. “Look at you, letting me do whatever I want with you, letting me have you, keep you--'s a terrible idea, Mikey, I could do anything, you couldn't stop me--”

Mike moans, trying to buck against him, and Chuck lets out a breathy noise.

“ _God_. I could make you suck my dick, could tease you at the same time, make you crazy for it--play with your dick, stick my fingers in you--”

Mike is shaking all over, strung taut with how close he's getting. Chuck has apparently remembered that Mike’s dick exists, wrapping a hand around it to stroke as he keeps thrusting, keeps mumbling filthy things he wants to do to Mike.

“Could just keep you here for hours, days. Play with you until you’re too tired to move a muscle, too worn out even to beg me for more. Have you till you passed out. Maybe I'd wake you up before I started playing again, maybe not.” His voice lowers, rasping. “Maybe I just wouldn't let you go, you'd be mine to have whenever I wanted--”

He keeps talking, but pleasure is crackling through Mike from the tail-tip up like a string of firecrackers going off, and he can't really hear Chuck anymore.

When he comes drifting back to himself, Chuck is rocking into him wildly, squeaking and moaning, so frantic that the whole length of him is twitching and shifting around Mike. Mike lets out a breathless groan, eyes tracking from Chuck's darkly flushed face down his chest and abdomen to where his dick shows in flashes as he pulls out of Mike and slams back in again. Licking his lips, Mike shivers at the twinges of want still ricocheting through him. It's crazy; he just got off and his dick has already mostly withdrawn into its sheath, but he still doesn't want Chuck to stop. He wants what Chuck was saying, to be played with until he can’t take it anymore and then still get more even after that, to be held on to forever—

Chuck slams into him a few final times and shudders, jerking, hands clamped bruisingly hard on Mike's hips. His eyelids flutter as he lets out a loud moan, voice breaking, and Mike moans too as Chuck's dick pulses inside him, wet heat spilling into him.

With a soft whimper, Chuck sags against Mike and goes still. His coils have all gone slack, and when Mike tentatively shifts a wrist, moving slowly so as not to trigger Chuck's prey instinct, the curl of Chuck's tail gives way easily. Mike carefully pulls his arms free and immediately wraps them around Chuck, who makes a little humming noise and snuggles closer. His coils shift sluggishly to pull Mike in tighter.

Mike gasps softly as Chuck's dick begins to slide out of him, pulling back into its sheath.

“Mrgh,” Chuck mumbles, and his coils tighten a little around Mike when he shivers involuntarily--having Chuck pull out of him feels _weird_ , slippery and too-empty and a relief at the same time, like it was getting to be too much even though Mike didn't want it to stop.

“Hey,” he says, and kisses Chuck hopefully when Chuck raises his head. Chuck hums against his lips and kisses back, all languid and easy.

“Hmm,” Chuck says when he pulls back, half-lidded eyes on Mike's face. His tongue flickers out, scenting. Mike can't imagine there's much to notice besides all the sex, but whatever Chuck picks up, it makes him smile at Mike, pleased and way too shy for everything they just did.

“So,” Mike says, smiling back. He's sort of buzzing gently, a loose, delicious heaviness settling all through him now that the adrenaline’s faded away and only the tiredness of a _really thorough_ workout remains. Everything is warm and fuzzy and awesome. “You wanna keep me here for hours, huh?”

“Oh,” Chuck says, a little squeaky, cheeks flushing. “I mean, not _here_ , obviously.” He looks around. “No offense to Mutt, it's kinda cramped.”

“Right,” Mike says, and his smile breaks into a grin. “I seem to remember something about taking me up to your room, and, um,” geez, it's so stupid that after all that, his face is heating over saying _this_ , “playing with me there.”

Chuck's eyes widen, and then he gets a wicked look. “After getting you all worked up and then stopping, wasn't it?”

Mike mock-glares at him. “Okay, well, ignoring that part, is the _rest_ of the offer still open?”

Chuck nibbles lazily on his smile, studying Mike. “Possibly,” he admits. “I _could_ play with you in my room. Or in your room. Or in the garage or the rec room, when no one's around, or anywhere I could catch you, really. You up for that?”

A weird, shivery jolt of heat goes through Mike, catching his breath short in his throat. He stares at Chuck, wordless, and if his body's not up for another round _just_ yet it doesn't feel like it'll take long.

Chuck's smile broadens. “Get you alone in the diner, stretch you out along the bar.”

“ _Dude_ ,” Mike says in breathless not-quite-protest.

“Pin you down, touch you until you get loud enough to wake up the whole hideout.”

“Chuck!”

“Of course,” Chuck goes on, smirking at him, “that might take a while. I might have to stop a few times before I can get you to scream for me.”

Mike's hips jerk and Chuck's coils clench tight around him as Chuck’s face flushes again, looking intrigued. “You like that, huh?”

“Not the, the stopping,” Mike gasps. “But, yeah, anything else you want, dude. You want me loud, I'll--I'll scream for you.” He means it, even though his face is on fire just saying it.

“Oh,” Chuck breathes, “oh wow, Mikey.” He pulls Mike in and kisses him hard, then draws back, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Tell you what,” he says, picking up Mike's shirt and jacket off the driver's seat, then bodily lifting Mike and depositing him in their place. “You get us back to the garage and I'll give you a little head start. We'll see how far you get before I catch up.”

Mike shifts to get his coils on the gas and brake and turns on the car, breathing hard. Adrenaline shivers through him, waking up tired muscles, getting him ready for another fight, and he grins at Chuck like a dare. Rattles his tail.

“ _Deal_ ,” he says, and hits the gas.


End file.
